“Oh, yes,” she moaned, her hands digging into his hair, holding him to her, urging him for more.
His tongue lashed against her pearl, rapidly and with single-minded purpose: to show her ultimate ecstasy, to teach her the pleasures her body was capable of. Pleasures he could unleash in her, share with her.
With his finger, he stroked against her cleft, gently probing. God, she was tight. He would split her in half if he tried to plunge into her. How could she possibly get used to him? There was so little time; he had only tonight.
With trepidation, Quinn slowly pressed his finger between her plump nether lips, parting them. His tongue never ceasing to caress her swollen pearl, he drove his digit into her tight opening. An instinctive tensing of her muscles was her response, so he doubled his efforts on her precious button, licking it harder and faster.
Rose’s body relaxed. It allowed him to drive his finger into her to the last knuckle. Warmth and wetness engulfed him, and the knowledge that his cock would feel those same muscles gripping him tightly in a few minutes made his heart race like a wild horse galloping to escape a captor.
When he started moving his finger in and out of her, her hips undulated, moving in rhythm with his gentle thrusts. Yes, she was a natural, her body telling her what she needed. Her panting became more pronounced, her breaths faster and shorter, sounds of pleasure spurting from her lips like water cascading over a waterfall.
“Ah, Rose, my Rose,” he murmured against her flesh.
Her body tensed. “Quinn . . . I need . . . I . . . I want,” she whispered.
He knew what she was unable to express. With his tongue he pressed hard against her pearl while his finger delivered a deep thrust.
A strangled cry filled the cottage. Not one of pain, but one of pure pleasure, for her muscles started convulsing around his finger, her hips moving wildly as her climax took her.
“Oh God!” she cried out.
Seconds stretched longer as he continued to gently move inside her, continued to lick her quivering pearl, wanting to extend, to prolong her ecstasy.
When he finally looked up as her body started to calm, he gazed into the face of a new Rose: one who looked at him with wonder and amazement in her eyes. He’d done that to her, and he swore that he would do everything in his power to make her feel this way for the rest of their lives.
“Quinn, my Quinn.”
He lifted himself. With an efficiency that was new to him, he discarded his trousers. When he stood in front of her with not a stitch on him, Rose’s eyes dropped to his groin.
His hand went to his fully erect cock. It was so rigid, so pumped full with blood, that it curved against his stomach. And his balls were pulled just as tight.
“You’re so . . . so . . . big.”
A flash of fear crossed her features.
Slowly he lowered himself to her, sank down between her spread legs.
“You’re wet for me now. I’ll slip into you without resistance. I’ll fill you more completely than my fingers ever could. And you’ll hold me there until we both experience ecstasy together.”
Slanting his lips over hers, he kissed her gently, let her taste herself on his tongue. She moaned into his mouth and he went deeper, driving his tongue into her sweet cavern just as his cock nudged against her nether lips. As if she knew what to do, she pulled up her knees, adjusting her angle.
Unable to restrain himself, he thrust inside her. Her muffled cry made him stop instantly. He’d burst through her maidenhead. She was his.
“Easy, my love,” he cooed. “The pain will disappear in a second.”
She nodded, her eyes squinting.
“My brave Rose. You’re my wife now. Say it, call me your husband.”
Her eyes opened wide. “My husband. You’re my husband now.”
“Yes,” he whispered and pulled back, withdrawing almost completely from her warm sheath. “And now your husband will make love to you until you come apart once more.”
As he plunged back into her welcoming depth and took her lips once more, her arms and legs wrapped around him as if she were trying to make sure he didn’t leave her.
With every thrust, every stroke, and every moan, their bodies moved more in synch, adjusting to each other, learning each other. Every stroke brought him deeper into her warm cave, her muscles gripping him like a tight fist, imprisoning him in a cage he never wanted to escape.
It was like a dance. At first unsure and uneven, uncertain what the other would do, but with every minute that their bodies moved together, with every thrust he delivered, every kiss he captured, they fused, became one.
Quinn felt her hands on him, roaming his back, moving to his buttocks, her fingernails digging into his flesh, urging him on. But he tried to hold back, knowing her flesh was too fragile to go any harder than he was already taking her. If he did, there was no telling what would happen. He wanted their first time to be perfect, to make her want more, to wait for him.